


Time and Away

by Rocky_T



Series: Tightrope [9]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25617379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocky_T/pseuds/Rocky_T
Summary: One month afterVoyager's disappearance, Owen Paris calls a family meeting.
Relationships: Kathryn Janeway/Owen Paris, Owen Paris/Owen Paris' Wife
Series: Tightrope [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797067
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Time and Away

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Seema for her excellent beta.

Admiral Owen Paris parked the flitter on the street outside the home in Monterey he’d formerly shared with his ex-wife Julia. As he advanced up the walk, he noted in passing that the front flowerbeds had been sodded over, and the tall cypress trees that had stood sentinel were gone, leaving the imposing glass and red cedar shingle dwelling looking more exposed than he remembered. 

They had moved in when Tom was 3 years old; after a storied career as a field captain, Owen had accepted a promotion to the Admiralty and had taken a position teaching at the Academy, promising his wife that he would spend more time at home. Predictably, that didn’t last long. Eight years later, he’d yielded once more to the allure of space and set off on a small research vessel to study massive compact halo objects. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but the _Icarus_ mission would change his life.

He hesitated outside the massive front door, steeling himself for what he knew would be an unpleasant confrontation. But there was no point to delaying the inevitable. He grasped the ornate lion’s head knocker, lifting it up to expose the sensor panel underneath. At his touch, it hummed to life and announced his presence. He heard footsteps within, and looked up as the door opened.

Julia had elected to answer the door herself. “Owen,” she said, her manner less than gracious. The harsh late afternoon sunlight fell full across her face. It had been more than a year since he had last laid eyes on his ex-wife and the intervening months had not been kind to her. Lines stood out more prominently on her face, and her soft blond hair had faded to gray. He knew he himself did not exactly present a picture of youth and health either. He was very aware that the bags under his bloodshot eyes – souvenirs of too many sleepless nights since he’d heard the news – made him look far older than his 63 years. 

“Julia,” he said in return, striving to keep his tone even. “You look well. May I come in?”

She didn’t move. “It was so typical of you to leave a message announcing you’d be coming by,” she said. Her tone was cool, but it was warmer than her eyes. “You didn’t ask my permission, you didn’t ask if I had something planned or would be out. No, you just assumed the universe would fall in with your wishes.”

“And yet you are here,” he stated. He waited, wondering if she would make him ask again.

After a long moment, she grudgingly stepped aside and allowed him to enter. It had been a very long time since he’d last been here and he noticed she had done a lot of redecorating inside the house as well. The polished mahogany side table which had held the antique copper bowl always full of fresh-cut flowers had been replaced by a rough stone sculpture, vaguely ovoid in shape. The faded Oriental rug was gone, exposing hardwood flooring that rang beneath the heels of his boots. He should have expected there to be changes to the place; they’d been divorced for nearly 9 years after all. 

Instinctively, he headed straight for the library, and only her exasperated sigh alerted him that perhaps this wasn’t the room she preferred to hold their meeting in. He stopped short next to what had been his favorite wing chair, next to the sideboard where the liquor and other spirits were kept, and turned around to face her. He couldn’t help but notice that this was one room which remained unchanged from the way he remembered it.

She didn’t offer him a drink. Instead, she folded her arms across her chest. “Say whatever it is you came to say, Owen, and then be on your way.”

“Are the girls here yet?” he asked, referring to their daughters, Kathleen and Moira.

“No,” said Julia. “What is this, a command performance? The great man wants to speak his piece so everything must come to a halt, we all have to drop everything because you say so?” Her mouth twisted unpleasantly. “Everyone has _lives_ , Owen, so stop assuming the universe revolves around you.”

“Call them,” he said, still striving to keep his voice calm. “Call them and tell them to come over right now.”

“If you’re going to insist--”

“Yes, I do. Call them, Julia.” He took a deep breath. “They need to be here.”

Without another word, Julia left the room. Dimly, he could hear the sound of her voice on a comm unit in another room, though he couldn’t make out her words. She returned a few moments later. “Moira is on her way. Kathleen is still off world.”

Owen hadn’t known Kathleen was away, and grimaced at the news she wouldn’t be here; he’d really wanted to get this over with all at once. 

They waited in silence until Moria arrived.

“Hello, Mother,” his eldest daughter said as she came over to give Julia a perfunctory kiss. Despite her dark hair – the same color that Owen’s had been though his had long since turned iron gray – Moira looked very much like Julia in height and build, and she had inherited her mother’s aquiline nose. Her eyes were brown, though not as deep a shade as Julia’s, or Kathleen’s; only Tom among the three children had inherited Owen’s pale blue eyes. 

Moira made no move toward him, but gave him an exasperated look. “Father, do you have any idea how inconvenient it was to just drop everything to come here now? I have to pick up the twins from their Parises Squares practice in less than an hour, and then replicate a quick dinner before I run out for my class this evening.” Her frown deepened. “A little advance notice would have been nice.”

Owen bit back a retort that he had indeed informed Julia about this meeting yesterday, and had asked her to convey the message to their daughters. Clearly, she hadn’t. He could have contacted the girls himself, of course, but he hadn’t wanted to deal with their questions piecemeal. Not until he had gathered all the information, and had all the facts at his disposal, to prepare for how he was going to tell them the news. But this wasn’t going to be easy, not if he had all the time in the world.

“I have something I need to tell you,” he said, hoping Moira could read the apology in his eyes. He felt his right hand begin to tremble and clenched it in a fist, willing the tremor to stay under control. 

He felt rather than saw Moira dart a quick glance toward his hand. “What is it?” she asked, her tone softening.

“The _USS Voyager_ , one of the most advanced ships in the fleet, was on a mission to the Badlands.” Owen drew in a quick intake of breath. “It was Kathryn’s ship.”

Julia made an impatient gesture. “What does this have to do with us?” she objected. “You came here, to _my_ home, to talk about _that_ woman?”

Ignoring the interruption, Owen continued. “It was supposed to have been a 3-week mission. The ship disappeared without a trace one month ago.” Short, factual sentences, that would give no opening for the emotions that threatened to spill over and ruin his outwardly calm facade. “Starfleet has investigated and has no idea what happened. No wreckage was found. It’s not the first ship to have disappeared in this area recently, either.”

“Oh, Dad,” Moira said, sympathy plain in her voice. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Owen nodded, somewhat unsteadily. “Starfleet has officially declared the ship missing in action. The standard procedure is to wait another 6 months and if there is no progress in the search, no further leads, they will officially be declared dead.” Feeling suddenly weak, he sat down heavily in the chair.

Julia ran her hand through her hair and exhaled loudly. “I’m sorry for your loss, and I don’t mean to be unsympathetic, Owen, but why are you here? Why did you insist we all be present? Surely you could have shared this news over the comm system.”

“Because,” Owen said in a low voice that was scarcely above a whisper, “Tom was on board that ship.”

***

It had all begun the night of Moira’s wedding. Always drawn to Kathryn during the early years of their association, Owen had held himself in check, conscious only of the large age gap between them, and that he had been first her teacher, then her commanding officer. It wasn’t just her beauty, her heart-shaped face and classically drawn features that attracted him, but her mind and intellect. Now, seeing her again for the first time in years, the realization had dawned on him that there was nothing holding them back from embarking on a relationship, not anymore.

They’d spent most of the evening catching up, Owen leaving her side only long enough for the obligatory father-daughter dance with the bride. Afterward, they’d ducked out early, first to a café where they sat and talked for hours, heedless of the incongruity of their fancy dress in such mundane surroundings. As the hour grew late, he’d seen her back to her apartment in the artist’s colony in Sausalito.

Almost as soon as they were inside, they fell into each other’s arms. Within minutes, they were making love in her bed. The feel of her body beneath his, the way her breath caught in her throat at the climax of her passion…for Owen it had been a revelation. For the first time in years he felt truly alive, as she woke within him emotions he had feared he would never experience again. Holding her afterward, he only knew that he would never let her slip away from him. Ever.

They’d gotten married a few months later, in a small private ceremony conducted by Admiral Robert Leyton, his oldest and perhaps closest friend in Starfleet. Kathryn had worn her dress uniform, her only concession to bridal fashion a small lace veil and the bouquet of three white roses she carried, tied with a bow of pink satin. Kathryn’s father had died years earlier, in the same accident that took the life of her fiancé Justin Tighe, but Kathryn’s mother was there as her only attendant. Gretchen Janeway had been mostly successful at keeping her disapproval from showing – Owen was far more her contemporary than he was Kathryn’s – but Owen didn’t care. Nothing could dim his happiness at winning the love of this accomplished woman, soon to be awarded the rank of captain.

Their social circle at first assumed Kathryn, 25 years his junior, was a trophy wife, and Owen had been the recipient of many envious looks as well as some not so polite innuendo. But she soon showed them who and what she was, holding her own in conversation with varied groups, whether it was discussing art and music with members of the Cultural Appreciation Society, or tactics with a roomful of Admirals.

They honeymooned in Paris, so he could also meet with the Federation President concerning the negotiations over the Cardassian-Federation treaty. After a glorious trip through French wine country, they settled into their new home in the San Francisco area, or at least Owen did while Kathryn took command of the _Billings_.

Her star was on the rise. They made a pact that he would not interfere in her ship or command, and she in turn pretended she did not know confidential information that she was only privy to because of her husband. Owen was terrifically proud of her, but at the same time, the demands of both their careers meant that for all intents and purposes it was primarily a long distance marriage. They kept in close touch through the comm links, and it was almost enough. Owen, as an older man, found it relatively easy to be sexually abstinent while she was gone. He wondered sometimes what it was like for her, if she remained faithful to her vows, but she never gave him any cause for embarrassment or public shame.

Theirs was a true meeting of the minds; he could talk to her about anything. She understood him so much better than Julia ever had because they shared the ‘Fleet connection. Kathryn challenged him intellectually, helped him see alternatives when he needed another perspective – in almost everything except where his son was concerned.

It was almost a perfect marriage.

***

“What do you mean?” Julia asked, her voice raised in a mixture of confusion and fear. “Tom’s in the penal colony in Auckland serving out his sentence. What do you mean by saying he’s on _Voyager_?”

Owen bit back a retort that she clearly hadn’t kept in touch with Tom since his incarceration. Ruefully, he acknowledged that he hadn’t done so either; it was Kathryn who’d sought Tom out.

In the same even tone he’d adopted earlier, he said, “Tom was on board as an observer. He’d been a member of the Maquis cell that _Voyager_ was sent to capture. Kathryn thought his experience was valuable, could very well be the difference between success and failure.” Owen pressed his hand firmly down on his leg which was threatening a tremor of its own. “In exchange for his assistance, his sentence would be commuted.”

“Was Tom’s information really sufficient to warrant such a sweet deal?” Moira asked, her forehead puckered in a frown.

“Kathryn thought it was,” Owen answered. There’d been other reasons as well. In his mind, he heard Kathryn’s voice, telling him that everyone deserved a second chance.

Julia had listened in stunned silence. “What--” She cleared her throat and tried again. “What happens now?”

Owen repeated his earlier words about standard Starfleet procedure in such a situation.

“So they’ll keep looking,” Moira said, holding her hands firmly together as if afraid they’d get away from her if she didn’t. “They haven’t given up hope.”

Owen shook his head slowly. “Officially, yes, they’ll keep looking. But now that the ship has been declared missing, they are pulling back their resources – the bulk of their efforts, when it would have been expected to yield results, has already been expended.”

Moira let out a low moan of comprehension. “So you think--” She shook her head and couldn’t go on.

Julia lifted her chin. “Tell me the truth, Owen: is there any hope?”

“There’s always hope,” Owen said. Inwardly he winced at how hollow the words sounded. He tried again. “There was no wreckage, no signs of a battle. If the ship _was_ disabled or destroyed, there would have been some evidence.”

Both Julia’s and Moira’s faces brightened visibly. “You’re saying they’re probably still alive, right?” Moira asked hopefully.

Owen didn’t have the heart to disillusion her, but he would be doing her no favors if he allowed her to live in false hope. “There’s no way to know for sure.”

“But what if the Cardassians are involved?” Julia asked, as the hope in her own eyes dimmed. “Could they have captured the entire ship and taken the crew somewhere?”

Owen flinched involuntarily. Julia had voiced his own fear out loud; she too must be remembering what had happened during the _Icarus_ mission, when the shuttle he and Kathryn had been on had been captured – and how they’d been tortured by the Cardsassians. “Nobody knows. I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes briefly.

“This is your fault,” Julia said in a low voice. “You knew about this deal, knew Tom was off world on a dangerous mission and he’s not even a member of Starfleet anymore! You _knew_ , and you didn’t even have the decency to tell me!”

“Julia, Tom is a grown man, and it was his choice to--”

“Your _wife_ is responsible for Tom being missing!” 

“Kathryn is responsible for the lives of everyone on board the ship,” Owen said harshly. “That’s what being captain means. A lot of families are processing this news, just like you are. There were 150 people on that ship.”

Julia jerked as if she’d been slapped, but she said no more and bowed her head. After a few moments of silence, she raised her face toward him, the damp tracks of tears visible on her cheeks. “Thank you for telling us,” she said, her voice very cold and formal.

Owen rose to his feet, hearing the dismissal in her voice. He felt suddenly very weary. “When is Kathleen returning to Earth?” He wasn’t looking forward to going through this again.

“I’ll tell her tonight,” Moira said quietly. “She’s not due to return until next weekend.”

“Thank you,” Owen said to his eldest daughter gratefully. He cleared his throat. “I’ll see myself out.”

“One more thing, before you go,” Julia said. She moved closer to him and he wondered if she would hug him or at least pat his arm as a sign of their shared pain and loss. Instead, she stopped a few inches away and looked him full in the eye. “I expect you to make sure I continue to be informed, Owen.”

“Of course--”

“I want to know _everything_ Starfleet learns in their investigation – I want to be in the inner loop and not have to depend on you for dribs and drabs of information.” Julia took a deep shuddering breath. “After all, Tom is my son.”

“Yes, I know,” Owen said, returning her gaze. What he was about to say had never rung so true. “He is my son, too.”


End file.
